


all I've ever known is how to hold my own (and now I wanna hold you too)

by gingergenower



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/M, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, Romance, fjord: I'm just a fuckin sailor, painting a mural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: Is it strange to feel nothing but tenderness? Is it wrong that, for the first time in his life, he does not feel like the monster he always saw himself as? Is it absurd to only be capable of love when he’s with her?***Jester and Fjord paint a mural.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin (mentioned), Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (mentioned) - Relationship, Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81





	all I've ever known is how to hold my own (and now I wanna hold you too)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I started writing this way before caleb revealed that goddamn mansion and my idea isn’t as cool but whatever liam worked on that for literal years

Crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, Fjord pauses, smiling softly as Jester sticks her tongue out in concentration. She’s in the middle of doodling, sat at the deep teal desk in his room,  tail flicking with every flourish of her pen.

“Hey, Jessie.”

She keeps sketching for a moment, concentrating, but her eyes brighten as soon as she looks up and  she’s met by his patient  smile. “Mm... yah?”

“Do you reckon the desk would look better under the window?” 

It’s a strange centrepiece. The walls are still the blank, inoffensive cream they were when they were first given the  Xhorhouse \- when the room was bare and looked like an orphan sailor’s quarters on a ship, as unremarkable and replaceable as its occupant- but Jester found the desk abandoned in the basement.

Fjord helped her manoeuvre it up the stairs and she repainted it its luxurious, deep colour, and it sees a lot of use. 

Her sketchbook’s usually open on it with her paints and inks and brushes, like now, and there’s a pink-leafed plant Caduceus gave her (that  Fjord tends and waters because she’s sporadic in its care, at best) sat on it. Sprinkle has his own nest of blankets on the desk, and her perfume and jewellery are lined up on it too.

Turning in her seat, she frowns, her artist’s eye narrowing in on it. “Oh. Maybe? This wall would be pretty bare, though.”

The colour’s already bleeding into the room. He hung her cloak up in his wardrobe and other items of her clothing have made the permanent migration over to joining them. Her books are stacked up on the bedside table,  _ Tusk Love _ on top to tease him, and the little collection of unicorn figurines and seashells he’s given her are scattered across the shelves he hasn’t any other possessions to put on.

But, it looks unbalanced. It’s as if the colour is trying take root in a room that has no interest in being lived in, like it will inevitably wash away again.

“Yes, well. I was actually thinking you could maybe... have at it,” he says, gesturing at it, trying to be nonchalant, but her eyes go wide.

“Like-  _ oh _ ! Really?” Bouncing in her seat, she turns to him. “Like  _ painting  _ it?”

“Yes, I mean- you mentioned doing it, a long time ago. And I was thinking maybe something that reminded you of home. But like I said- whatever you want. Go for it.”

Even as she jumps up, he straightens up and opens his arms to meet her barrelling towards him, almost knocking him over she hugs him so hard.

“Oh my gosh! Ok! Yes, let’s- oh my gosh! Will you help me move the desk? I need to move the desk, I might need more paint, and I-  _ oh shit _ ! I could do a mural, like  Yasha’s room!”

“That’s- I mean, yes, that’s what I was thinking?” he says, grinning at her delighted giggling, and she suddenly stops and puts a hand on his chest, suddenly serious.

“Do you like pink?”

“Love it,” he says, because it’s the colour of those little hamster unicorns she conjures and half the doodles she shows him.

“Even if it’s dicks?”

“Even if all you do it a repeating pattern of pink dicks and Captain  Tusktooth faces,” he says solemnly, and she giggles, kissing his nose. 

“Ok! Yay! I’m going to- oh  _ boy _ .”

Jester goes out to get the paint; Yasha helps Fjord push all the furniture into the centre of the room and cover it with old bedsheets, and they agree Caduceus should take Sprinkle to avoid the paint fumes.

They begin with good intentions. She asks him to help her get the base coat down- a glossy, royal blue that glides over the blank walls, like it was always meant to be a foundation- and he thinks this is a straight-forward ask until he’s glances across at her.

She’s borrowed one of his shirts, wearing it over pink tights, and she sticks her tongue as she concentrates on reaching up high. His shirt rides up her thigh, and he forces himself to turn back to the wall, but she realises she’s flustering him because of course she does and she plays it up.

She’s always so damn  _ knowing _ , her delight glittering in her eyes when she flirts, and it makes him want to laugh that he ever thought this was supposed to be anything less. 

Attraction is  _ her _ ; kindness and confidence and sincerity in silliness.

Jaw tight as he fails not to blush, he shakes his head at the wall when she ‘accidentally’ swipes paint across the arm of his shirt.

They both know it’ll come out in the wash, and she shrugs, smirking. “Oops! Clumsy me! Maybe you should take it off,  _ who knows _ if I’ll do that again...”

“You know, you’re totally right,” he says, reaching up and pulling it over his head, tossing it towards the centre of the room.

Jester’s eyes bug out, staring at his chest, and he feigns nonchalance.

“Are you alright?”

“ _ Fine _ ,” she says, voice squeaky, lips pressed together as she continues painting, trying not to giggle.

Coming up behind her to lean over her, he reaches up higher than she can, hand on her waist and voice soft in her ear until she breaks into laughter, tail curling around his ankle and head tipping back against his shoulder.

“Fj _ ord _ ...”

“Jest _ er _ ...” Careful to angle his brush away from her, he wraps his arms around her.

Is it strange to feel nothing but tenderness? Is it wrong that, for the first time in his life, he does not feel like the monster he always saw himself as? Is it absurd to only be capable of  _ love  _ when he’s with her?

She rocks with him, relaxed and happy. “We need to finish this.”

“We do?”

“Yah. It was your  _ idea _ .”

“I am aware.” He kisses her cheek, and she closes her eyes, biting her lip on a smile. “And I do truly  _ mean  _ to finish it. It’s just... the small matter of you, looking at me like that.”

“Are you distracted?” She waggles her eyebrows and he pauses and blinks, like he hasn’t heard her.

“-sorry?”

She laughs again, holding onto the arms around her chest. “You’re funny.”

“I try.” Kissing the side of her head, he smiles at her joy and exhales, eyes closing as he breathes her in.

“ Er , am- I am interrupting,  _ ja _ ?”

Caleb is stood in the doorway and he’s not looking directly at them, cheeks pink. 

Jester pats Fjord’s arms as he lets her go and she turns to Caleb, waving her paintbrush haphazardly at him. “You brought tea!” 

"Caduceus brewed a pot,” Caleb says, letting her squeeze a hug around him as she skips up and he passes both cups over her shoulders to Fjord, hugging her briefly back. “And I was curious to see what you are doing.”

“It’s a work in progress,” Fjord says, gesturing to the half a wall they’ve managed to cover in the space of a couple of hours. 

Head tilting as her eyes narrow, Jester lets go of Caleb to critique their work. “We haven’t done a lot.”

“We haven’t.”

“That’s Fjord’s fault,” Jester tells Caleb, matter-of-fact as she accepts the tea he offers her.

“Oh, absolutely it’s my fault,” Fjord agrees, nodding sagely, as Jester sips and hums, satisfied.

“Mmm.  _ Fruity  _ dead people!”

Fjord and Caleb exchange an amused glance over her head, saying nothing, and Caleb nods to himself, composing himself. “Anyway, what are you planning to-” he gestures at the wall “-do?”

“It’s a secret,” Fjord says. “I’m not allowed to know.”

“I’ll tell you everything later,” Jester says, smirking. “ _ All  _ the juicy details, Caleb, don’t you worry.”

Caleb narrows his eyes and chooses not to answer her. “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. I have work to do. So I will do that now.”

“Work to do with  _ Essek _ _ ,  _ maybe?”

“I hope it goes well, Caleb,” Fjord says, poking Jester in the ribs when she waggles her eyebrows at Caleb’s blush, who escapes before she can make any other comments.

“You know, they’re  _ into  _ each other,” Jester says, only a few seconds after Caleb turns the corner.

“Oh, yeah,” Fjord says without hesitation- even  _ he  _ can see it- and he drinks his tea, “but you know him. He’ll get there. It just takes time. And trust.”

“They’re going to be so  _ happy _ .”

“Maybe.”

“We are.”

His gaze moves to her but she’s not even looking at him- she’s looking at the damn wall, paint-stained hands wrapped around her china cup, shining eyes seeing something that isn’t there yet.

“Yes, we are.”

“Hmm?” She didn’t quite hear him, distracted, but he just finishes the tea and squeezes her hand.

“We’d better get back to it.”

The rest of the day, they knuckle down. Working late and collapsing into the single bed in the room she used to share with Beau, Jester snuggles into his chest and drifts off, but Fjord doesn’t.

He tucks stray hair behind her ear, face soft with a small smile even in her sleep .

Jester only started sleeping in his room because Beau wanted to start spending her nights with Yasha. She asked Jester about it- knowing Jester doesn’t like sleeping alone, she wanted to make sure it was ok or she would come back at night- and Jester told her of course she would be ok with that. She said she was happy Beau was happy, but when she relayed the conversation to Fjord later he could see the anxiety in the tightness of her eyes, unsettled and lonely.

He didn’t think his response through. He only made the offer; well, if you want company...

A nd he absolutely did not want to put pressure on her to spend the night with him in  _ any  _ way, he just didn’t have a roommate either. The  guilt and worry settled under the weight of her relief, her enthusiastic nod and quick kiss more than enough that he knew he didn’t overstep.

He figured they’d sleep in this room all along- the one with two separate single beds instead of one double- but that afternoon she came into his. 

Dropping her bag on the floor next to Fjord’s and kicking her boots off, she was already talking about how some bookseller tried to rip off Caleb and the only reason she could think  _ why  _ was because he’s human and why are people in  Xhorhas like that, it’s so unfair to be mean to people because of how they look, and anyway between  Veth and her they stole four other books Caleb had been looking at so there might be some trouble for that-

And Fjord held back a smile and listened as she plopped down on the bed, gesticulating wildly, and he never brought up it up. 

Kissing her hair, eyes closing as he breathes her in, he’s glad this is way it is and joins her in sleep.

***

The next morning Jester gets up and dressed before Fjord even stirs. He tries to tempt her back to bed  but she just laughs, teasing him that he should be used to a sailor’s gruelling schedule.

“I left that life behind,” he says, and she smiles, because of course he didn’t.

He likes the warm bed, he likes the woman he’s in it with, but the ocean promises adventure. He’ll never be able to ignore that pull familiar towards the horizon.

“Alright, come on.”

“Fjord, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he says, kicking off the sheets and sitting up, stifling a yawn. “See? I’m going to be so much help.”

The second day, he gets down another layer of blue while she starts work on the mural itself, and she asks him to  _ please  _ not look, because she really does want him to be surprised. It might be the hardest thing he’s ever done- don't touch the big red gemstone, don’t piss off  Uk’otoa ,  _ don’t turn around _ \- but he manages it because she asked him to, eyes solely on the strokes his brush makes. 

When he’s finished the wall, he opens up the windows and doors to air the room out, the smell of paint stuffy even though Jester says she doesn’t notice it anymore. He then moves onto to the bedside table and shelves, matching them to the desk with the leftover teal paint she originally used.

On the third day, she doesn’t let him in at all. He sits on the floor outside the cracked open door, reading  _ Tusk Love  _ while she works.

It makes some- broad, sometimes poor- assumptions about orcs, and he skips over the explicit parts (there’s a chunk of 50 pages in the middle he misses without losing any plot) but he’s curious enough that he wants to know how it ends.

“But they end up together, right?” he calls through, and she laughs.

“I’m not spoiling it! Just keep reading!”

“I could just skip to the last page.”

“Don’t you dare!”

He doesn’t, but he does start skim-reading the pages where Oskar talks about how her family would never approve or Guinevere laments the inevitable tragedy of their circumstances. They're boring, and he knows they’re going to end up ignoring all those reasons anyway.

“Hey loser,  whatcha doing?”

Beau cocks her head as she strolls up to him, and he just holds up the book so she can see the title.

“Oh, you’re  _ bored _ . Like, real bored.”

“No, actually. I’m very interested.”

“He’s reading!” Jester shouts, and Beau smirks as walks past him and straight in his room.

“I see that- oh.  _ Jester _ .” Her voice drops, play into shock, and there’s a pause.

“Do you like it?”

Fjord pauses, staring at the page and listening intently.

“Yes. I- he's going to love it.”

Lower and quieter, Jester sounds vulnerable. “Really?”

“ _ Yes _ . As if he wouldn’t, this is-”

“Yeah?”

“And this...are you going to...?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hope you’re aware you’re testing my very limited restraint right now,” Fjord says, reaching out and rapping his knuckles against the door.

“That’s not our issue, Captain,” Beau snipes, and Jester giggles.

“I’m not a captain on dry land!”

“You are to us!”

“It’ll be worth it, Fjord, I promise,” Jester calls out. 

Fjord only smiles to himself, reading even as they continue their conversation, cryptic enough that he can’t decipher what they’re talking about.

He'd like anything she does, but he half has her rooms in the mansion and the Chateau in the back of his mind. Doodles, drawings, her thoughts and  _ whimsy  _ all over the walls, colourful and permanent.

Beau comes out, leaning against the doorframe. “She is so wildly out of your league, dude.”

“I know, I thought the same thing when you asked  Yasha out.”

Weighing that up, Beau nods. “I have ghost punching fists and that’s about it.”

“A trust fund?”

“Pretty sure dad wrote me out of getting any inheritance when TJ was born.”

“So you don’t even bring that,” Fjord says, just sympathetic enough that it’s condescending, and she punches his arm hard. “ _ Ow _ .”

“See  ya , cap,” she says, saluting as she walks away.

“Your fists are... really good. At punching.”

“Yep.”

He spends the next ten minutes rubbing his sore arm, only letting go to turn the pages of the book.

In the last scene of  _ Tusk Love _ , they meet in a field at the edge of her family’s estate and declare their love is more powerful than anything else in the world and nothing will tear them apart again, and he’s not sure he agrees but he gets why Jester liked the hyperbolic gesture of it all. 

“They got their shit together!” he says, closing it and dropping it on the floor next to him. He’s not a fast reader, and it took him a better part of the day.

“Isn’t it  _ romantic _ ?”

“Not the part where he left.”

After a moment, the door opens a little more, her face appearing in the gap. “Well, duh, but he comes back.”

“He does. But he should never have left.”

“Hmm. That’s true.” She blinks, watching him for a moment, but he changes the subject before she can question how serious he is.

“How’s it looking?”

“ _ So  _ good. You’re going to like it.” She bites her lip, frowning. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m going to love it,” he says, firmly and gently, and she huffs, smiling despite herself.

“Ok. Ok, ok. Yah, I’ll just...”

“Go on,” he says, “I’ll be here.”

He gets them both food, gets her drinks and snacks regularly, but he refuses to leave when she tells him to go work out with Beau or hang out with Caduceus. This was his request; the least he can do is keep her company.

Instead, he grabs a pillow to sit on and reorganises the finally-recovered Bag of Holding. He unearths a number of long-lost items he forgot he had and no longer needs, including the letter of recommendation from the Starosta for the  Soltryce Academy.

He holds like it's a delicate historical  artifact in his hands, reading the words written under duress because Jester wanted to help. She always knew about  Vandran and his voice, so this isn't even the first tangible evidence he had that she would support him, but he’s not sure she ever even knew what it meant to him.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” he says, stuffing the letter back in the bag. “Are you ok?”

“Yah, I- I think I’m done?”

“Really?”

“Um. Yes?”

He stands up, rolling his shoulders and neck, but doesn’t move to the door. “You don’t sound sure.”

“I...  _ whew _ . Yah, it’s done. Ok. Shit! Wait! Don’t come in!”

He hears something  smack on the floor, and she swears again. “Jester?”

“I’m fine! __ _ Fuckballs _ ! Hold on!”

“I’m holding,” he says, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh. “Do you need any help?”

“No!”

“Ok.”

“I’m not hurt, I just keep dropping-  _ shit _ !”

He snorts, unable to hold it, and when she emerges, flustered, she shuts the door behind her and jabs him in the ribs, giggling and pretending at irritation.

“Stop it!”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he cowers. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry. So, it’s done?”

“Yah,” she says, her eyes bright with excitement. “But- close your eyes, ok?”

“Close my eyes?” he says, and she takes his hands, covering his own eyes with them.

“And no peeking. Promise?”

“Promise,” he says, smiling when he feels her gaze study him, making sure he’s not lying.

She leads him in, orienting him in the room and kicking something that clatters out of the way so he doesn’t trip over it, and she exhales, nerves and excitement all in one.

“Ok, ok, ok. You can look.”

Dropping his hands, he isn’t sure what he expects, but he knows he wants to love it no matter what. He takes a breath, then opens his eyes to  colour .

The mural is an ocean’s horizon; it’s sunset. The ocean’s waves lap towards them, glittering with the gentle rise and fall of the tide. The sky is a swathe of pink, filled with the last rays of the day and  the  s un’s a bright dot that’s on the brink of setting . T he clouds ar e  highlighted yellow and orange, and the water ripples with scattered colour below them.

Fjord presses his lips together, forcing himself to breathe. Where he’s stood, in the centre of the room, the clouds unfurl onto the ceiling and the waves wrap around the corners of the room, the line of horizon continuing on, and it feels real.

He almost anticipates being able to smell the sea even as he inhales fresh paint.

“Do you like it?” Her voice is soft, tentative, and he can feel her eyes on him.

He can’t move, fixated. “Yes. I do. Thank you.”

They stand there a long time, side by side, and he notices more and more. The sea is the same teal as the desk in some place, broad brushstrokes highlighted with tiny details in the waves and the sky and the long horizon, a small fishing boat a backlit shadow in the distance. 

Like everything Jester touches, she gave this life.

“You know, you are the first person in my life I have ever been truly vulnerable with.” Fjord swallows, the sudden honesty strange and absolutely right in this moment, stood where they are, when she’s seeing him cry for the first time in their friendship. 

She doesn’t say anything, and when he looks to her, he doesn’t need her to.

“And I want you to know I will always follow you, wherever you’re going.” He cups her cheeks gently, thumbs stroking her cheekbones, and he feels everything he’s saying so fiercely it’s rough in his voice. “You have backup, you have a partner, you have me  _ always _ .”

She blinks, fingers curling around his wrists. “Fjord, I- um. I do know that. I feel it.”

“Good.” When he smiles, she does too, both of them a little too emotional. “I really like all the pink.”

“Yah, me too,” she says.

Offering her a hug she  takes, he wraps his arms around her and breathes in paint and perfume and home. He never wants anything else, any more. He knows what this means, now, and he’s not letting her go.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this was meant to be a five-times-jester-pranking-fjord fic, and it turned into a mini character study because I really wanted to describe their room.


End file.
